I recall, the shark in the small swimming pool enjoyed a toothsome meal that day.”

Baldrik’s scowl deepened. His hands clenched and unclenched as if longing to wrap them around Hans’ neck. “And I know what you would have done if Mother had not fled with me, her infant son.”

Helga lovingly straightened the knives on the counter. “She hid you so well that you were impossible to find. We thought you were dead.”

“Mother might as well be dead. Thanks to your family’s scare tactics and murder attempts, she went insane.”

Hans shrugged unconcernedly. “Life is cruel to everyone. In fact, Helga and I probably could have gotten the castle if your grandfather had had only one child. As it was, Father had to stage two ‘accidents’: your father’s and your uncle’s.” His forehead creased with puzzlement. “Father never did understand your Uncle Braun’s foolish obsession with boogie-woogie music and flying machines. Oh, well. It didn’t matter since Braun died in that unfortunate crash.”

“The von Bruinwalds always were tubs of lard,” Helga snickered. She mimed an airplane crash with a knife.

“And it was such a shame that Braun had to go and have a child before his death,” Hans added. “Having two heirs to the von Bruinwald estate to hunt down and murder made it extremely complicated and time-consuming.”

Baldrik, who could no longer stand the blatant disregard for his family’s life, slammed his fist down on the counter. “The only reason you two ingrates were released from prison and are still alive is because the Furor decided that you were cunning enough, yet looked harmless enough, to be proprietors of a shop serving as a front for Swatzi activity. But if I had my way...” He cracked his knuckles menacingly.

Nervously, Helga said, “Hansy, can’t you see that Herr Baldrik would like to retire?”

“Come, sir. I’ll show you up to your room.” Behind him was a cabinet filled with merchandise. Reaching around to the right side of it, Hans pushed a little knob in with a click. The cabinet swung open easily, revealing a secret staircase that was illuminated by a single, dim lightbulb. “Right this way, sir.”

“You first,” Baldrik growled.

“Of course, sir,” Hans replied in his ever-polite, smooth voice.

After they had disappeared up the stairs, Helga closed the cabinet. “I like his cousin better.”

“Watch your step, sir.”

“Any news from the Herr Doktor?” Baldrik asked gruffly.

“Yes, sir. A telegram arrived today, saying, ‘Proceed as planned.’”

“Gutt.”

At the top of the stairs was a door. And through that door was a room bustling with secret Swatzi activity. Draped across the shuttered windows was a large Swatzi flag, prominently displayed. Interposed on the flag's bright red background was a black flyswatter posed to whack a white world. On the opposite wall was a map of the world with pins stuck all over it. A handful of people were conversing in low murmurs as they quietly and calmly went about their work. When Hans and Baldrik entered the room, the man tending the telegraph machine briefly glanced at them, then returned to business.

They walked to the far end of the room where Hans unlocked a door. “Here we are, sir.”

Baldrik snatched the key from Hans. “Do not disturb me for anything.” He slammed the door in the former butler’s face.

“Rest in peace...”

The key turned in the lock.

“Sir,” Hans concluded with an oily smirk. He turned and went downstairs.

Baldrik pulled a flashlight from his briefcase and clicked it on. He found himself in a small, interior room furnished with a bed, night stand, lamp, and full-length mirror.

The flashlight’s beam ran over everything in the room as Baldrik searched for booby traps. As a rule, he didn’t trust anyone. He especially didn’t trust the last of a long line of servants that had killed his family off, generation by generation. It was improbable that Hans and Helga would leave him alone now, despite the fact that the family estate that should have rightfully been his no longer belonged to the von Bruinwalds.

He opened the night stand drawer and coolly leapt back as an animal trap snapped at his fingers. Ripping the trap from the drawer, he tossed it on the bed, where it sank out of sight. He tore the sheets from the bed to reveal a box filled with quicksand. “Typical,” he muttered to himself.

Baldrik then turned his attention to the full-length mirror. He peered into it and around it. Since it seemed to be free of traps, he removed his cloak and hung it on a hook.

He wasn’t much surprised when the hook tipped forward under the weight of the cloak, causing the mirror to swing open, as if on hinges. Baldrik jumped to the side as a sharp scythe swept from out of the recess behind the mirror. As the scythe made its second sweep through the room, he grabbed the handle and pulled, thereby snapping the rope and pulley that it dangled from. “Nice try, Hans, but this is one von Bruinwald who’s not afraid of your booby traps,” he said as he tossed the scythe back into the recess and shut the mirror with a sneer of derision.

Then, he approached the one object that hadn’t been examined: the lamp sitting on the night stand. He ripped off the lampshade. Nothing. He studied the base. It seemed solid. Satisfied that it was safe, he clicked it on. He jumped, slightly startled, when the bulb blew. “Darn lamp,” he growled.

By the light of his flashlight, he traded his street clothes for a nightshirt. He glanced at the overalls in disgust before wadding them up. He never wanted to mop a floor or scrub a toilet again. Thanks to the papers concealed in his briefcase, he’d never have to.

Before lying down on the bare, wooden floor, he caught his reflection in the mirror: a large grey bear with ruggedly handsome features marred by a cruel expression. The steely eyes glinted back at him. He settled himself on the floor, pillowing his head on the overalls and covering himself with the cloak.

Baldrik pulled the briefcase close to himself. Only one simple thing left to do, then his mission would be complete.

A smile of satisfaction touched his lips as he turned off the flashlight.

End of part 2

Love: the Spies of Life
part 3

Pearee
Monday
Midnight

A light, warm summer drizzle was pattering on the Sea Duckbobbing on the Sane River when ten police cars drove up on the nearby shore. Twenty policemen poured out of the cars and stealthily approached the seaplane.

“Sounds like there is a chainsaw inside,” Marin snickered, his ear to the cargo hold door.

Inspector Deuseau said pointedly, “Inside, there is also a very dangerous, very crafty criminal.” He pulled a gun out of his vest pocket.

Likewise, the other cops drew out their firearms. At the inspector’s signal, Marin wrenched open the Sea Duck’s cargo door and the cops streamed in.

“Aah!” Rebecca shrieked, pulling the blanket closer around her.

“What’s goin’ on?” Baloo mumbled sleepily.

“You are under arrest,” Deuseau said, shining a flashlight in the big bear’s confused face.

Baloo, who was still half-asleep, squinted and shielded his eyes from the bright beam with his hand. “Huh? What for?”

“For the robbery of Le Laboratorie d’Atomique.”

“What?” Baloo sat straight up in bed, now fully awake. “B-b-b-b-b-b-b-but...!” he blubbered, watching in helpless confusion as cops ransacked the seaplane.

“Do you mind?” Rebecca snapped, outraged. “This plane is private property!”

“Not anymore. It is being confiscated for evidence.” Marin picked up one corner of the blanket as if to examine under it.

Rebecca kicked the cop’s hand away. “Baloo, do something!” she whispered frantically, clutching her husband’s arm.

Baloo gave her hand a comforting pat. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m sure this is all a big misunderstandin’, an’ as soon as we sit down an’ talk about it, it’ll get worked out.” Then, he angrily raised his voice: “Now, all of you get outta here so’s we can put some clothes on!”

Inspector Deuseau gave Baloo a withering stare. “Very well. We will be waiting outside. If you try to leave, we will follow.”

Rebecca, huddled under the blanket up to her chin, said, “Believe me, we won’t!”

As if in one accord, the policemen dropped the clothes and souvenirs in a loud crash and headed for the door.

After everyone had gone, Baloo and Rebecca looked at each other in astonishment.

Rebecca threw herself into Baloo’s arms. Hot tears of frustration pricked her eyes. “First, Karnage wrecks our wedding and now this.”

“Look on the bright side, Becky,” he murmured, holding her close.

She snapped irritably, “There is no bright side!”

“Sure there is,” he replied with a confident grin. “Nothin’ worse can happen to us.”

Pearee Police Station

A little while later, Baloo and Rebecca found themselves handcuffed and seated under a bright interrogation light.

“You were saying?” Rebecca said wryly.

“Hope they don’t give me a spellin’ test,” Baloo muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “I can’t talk their lingo, let alone spell it.”

“Silence!” the inspector barked as he entered the room.

Baloo and Rebecca jumped, startled.

“I am Inspector Deuseau of the Pearee Police.”

“Do so, what?” Baloo wondered.

“Zip it, Baloo!” Rebecca snapped, kicking her husband’s shin under the table.

“As you know, you are charged with the theft that occurred at 7:10 PM on Saturday, June 11th at Le Laboratorie d’Atomique.”

“What was stolen, Inspector?” Rebecca asked timidly,

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